Overdue Discussion
by medicgirl
Summary: Both of Mac's "fathers" have a discussion over his hospital bed. I do not like James MacGyver, and this story is my attempt to reconcile with the character. Protective Jack looking out for his boy, as usual. Mac is technically there, but mostly just as set dressing...


Disclaimer:Not mine, of course... If they were, Jack would be recast and we would have the character even if not the actor!

Personal Note: I could use some help from my fellow fans. I read a fic where Mac and Jack were taken by a scientist who used Mac to test human endurance and Jack as his leverage to make him. I would love to read it again, but can't find it. This sound familiar to anyone?

Author's Note: This is what should have happened sometime in the second season. I despise Mac's dad, and as a person who has a very similar relationship in my life, I all but scream at the TV for him to be careful. This fic is a way for me to try to reconcile the character to not remind me of my life... Also, if I ever knew Jack's rank in the army, I can't remember it now, and not sure if they have given Jack's full name or if I picked up a middle name from another fanfic... Anyway, enjoy, and review!

The heart monitor beeped steadily, though too slow for Jack's liking. But between its steady beep and the whooshing sound of the ventilator, he knew that his boy was getting air into his lungs and his heart was beating. The respiratory failure when he came out of surgery had taken ten years off Jack's life, and no one would ever convince him that MacGyver's body wasn't just too exhausted to breathe on its own. In the three days since he had carried him, unconscious and bleeding and way too pale, into the rural hospital, Mac had never woken up once. Which Jack was somewhat thankful for, considering that to get on the medevac chopper with him, he had to handcuff him and pull out a fake US Marshall badge before they would let him fly with the kid. He had been scared to death the kid would wake up handcuffed and confused and panic.

Thankfully, that didn't happen, but it had been a while and now he really, really needed the boy to wake up. Needed to see those blue eyes clear of any fog and know (the doctors said it was a very remote chance, but he wouldn't really believe until he saw for himself) that the bullet that bounced off his thick skull hadn't damaged that big brain of his.

Being assured that with proper treatment he would survive, that had been the fear that had kept Jack awake for three days. Brain damage. Two of the scariest words Jack knew of. Not because of his friend's brilliance, although that was a huge asset to national security) but because if that happened, it would destroy his friend. It would take away what made him who he was, although if that happened and Mac had to start over again and didn't remember who he used to be, that would be bad, but Jack would be there for him. But for him to remember who he was and what he had been able to do… Jack shuddered. He could think of no deeper hell for the kid who was basically his baby brother. There was no way he could watch him suffer that way for the rest of his life… That might just be horrible enough for Jack to put a bullet in both their heads. Mac's to spare him a lifetime of absolute hell, and his own because he could never live with doing that. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to reset. That was never allowed to be in his head again. Ever.

Standing up to pace, he heard footsteps heading towards the room. They were in the last room on the ward, so they had to be coming to see Mac. Maybe the doctor was coming and had something that could wake him up and let Jack see his eyes and know that he was still in there and-

James MacGyver entered the room, his face impassive as he looked down at his son. A glance up to Jack, and he nodded to him, less of a 'hello' than an acknowledgement of the other man's existence. "Dalton."

Jack had seen the new Star Trek movie. He knew he was emotionally compromised and he knew how badly that ended. As much distaste as he had for the man, he was the one who had the power to separate the partners, to bench him and send someone else to keep Mac safe. Someone to whom it would just be a job to, not a blood covenant. And he knew that pissing the man off could be taken out on the boy without a second thought. So though it literally made him ill, he would do anything for Mac. "Sir."

They watched the heart monitor for a few moments before James made an offer that boiled Jack's blood coming from him. "If you need to get some coffee or food, I can sit with him a while. Or a shower…"

Jack looked down at the hospital scrubs he had been given to change out of his bloody clothes three days ago. He did very badly need all three, but not near as much as he needed to be there in case the sub-whatever hema-something eased off and Mac woke up. Jack was always there if he could be and the kid would be terrified if he wasn't. "No thanks, sir, I want to be here in case he wakes up. Thanks though."

"Really, I'll be right here and will call you if he does. He will be fine!"

Red flooded Jack's vision and he had two choices at that moment. There was no way to stop himself from lashing out. He just had to decide if it would be with his mouth or his fist. Knowing he couldn't protect Mac if he was in prison, he let out a shaky laugh. "Well, now I'm glad for your expert medical opinion. And pretty impressed too, _Sir_… Since if he were my son, the last word I would use tonight would be 'fine'!" Fairly proud that the older man wasn't bleeding or anything, Jack turned his eyes back on the too-still form in the bed. He or Mac one would pay for that, but he just couldn't stop himself.

Jack could feel Oversight staring at him, but he refused to show the weakness of looking back. He just silently prayed that it didn't come back to bite MacGyver in the end. The reply wasn't as threatening as he had feared, but it led down a bad road. "You don't like me very much, do you Dalton?"

God, he could take that and run with it for a country mile. Instead, he knew he had to tread carefully. His outburst hadn't cost his best friend… yet. "Sir, with respect to your position as my boss, I'm going to plead the fifth on that one."

James rolled his eyes. "You know that actually is protection from incriminating yourself?"

"Yes, Sir, I would like very much to avoid that." Jack wasn't used to having to pick his words so carefully, that was Mac's place. He really wished the man would just let him keep his mouth shut.

"This is not a court of law, agent."

Jack gritted his teeth. "Would you prefer name, rank, and serial number? Dalton, Jackson Wyatt, lieutenant, 4135-"

Oversight shook his head. "If I intended to interrogate you, you would know it. Stop being such a drama queen!"

Jack bit back the fact that the last one to call him that shared this man's last name and DNA. He sighed. "Look, you are my boss. My job, protecting that boy right there, is the most important thing in the world to me. Firing me wouldn't stop that, but it would make it a hell of a lot harder." He sat down hard in the chair. "Tonight, I am staring at proof that I failed him. It's not all on me, as someone in the agency seems to be testing his limits that he's afraid to say no to," he clamped his mouth shut momentarily, then abandoned that rabbit trail (knowing who Mac would kill him self to please). "But I'm the one on the front line with him, so it falls on me. I failed him. So tonight isn't the night for my boss to expect the whole 'good soldier' line of crap from me."

James seemed to deflate a little, and for less than a split second, regret crossed the older man's face. He took the other chair, across the bed from his agent. Then he studied Jack carefully. "What if it wasn't your boss asking? What if it was just your best friend's dad?" Jack looked up sharply, confused. "You may not believe me, but I do love Angus. I made some mistakes, and I am trying to repair what I can. And you mean more to him than anyone. Your disapproval would be a huge stumbling point to those repairs."

Jack's jaw was starting to hurt from clenching it so tightly. If this man only knew how tempting that was. He had been planning what he would say if he ever saw the son of a bitch that abandoned the best person he knew when he was just a kid who needed a father for nearly eight years. In time, he had honed it down to a simple right cross because anyone who would hurt Mac when he was even younger and more broken didn't deserve words. But if they were requested… "You ain't my boss right now? And nothing I say is gonna get me and him split up?"

"What do you want? I don't have a badge to take off of anything overdramatic like that. I'm not Oversight, I'm just Jim right now."

Jack looked down at his beaten and bruised friend in the bed and adjusted the plastic thingy holding his breathing tube in place. It looked like the bit on a horse's bridle and he couldn't shake the idea that it would have to hurt. "Okay, _Jim_, I'll tell you a few things I've wanted to tell you for years." Turning away from Mac so he didn't lose the fire in the words he had to say, he squeezed the kid's hand once and stared James MacGyver right in the eye.

"I didn't know nine year old Mac, didn't know his favorite cereal then or if he wore footie pajamas still or whatever. I've never even seen pictures of him that young, though now that I realize that, I'll have to ask Bozer. I'm sure he has some… Anyway, ten years later, I knew a scrawny-ass kid that still had acne and was already the smartest person I ever met. I learned that that boy, that kid who didn't talk much to anyone and already looked like the world had slapped him in the face before he had even gotten to his final boot size, had left MIT in his senior year when he realized how bad the world really sucked and decided it was on his shoulders to do something about it. And he knew everything and could pull the craziest ideas out of thin air and saved my life more times than I could count before we even got out of the sandbox.

But I also saw him in his bunk, shaking like a leaf and still with tears drying on his face because he was lost in some nightmare and I hadn't gotten to him before it got bad…"

Jim broke in at that point. "All soldiers have nightmares, Dalton."

Hie eyes blazed with anger. "I know they do. And I've seen him through those, too, as recently as last week. But those…" He shook his head, clearing the images from his head. "Have you ever seen a soldier's nightmare? They're bad. They're loud and the person screams and fights and tries to get away. What that kid had back then we're not soldier's nightmares. He never made a sound, never cried out for help, never fought. Just curled in on himself and cried until I could shake him out of it. The only reason I knew anything was happening was that he had one leg on his cot a tiny bit shorter and when he shook, his cot rattled. I've still never seen him more more embarrassed than the first time I woke him up from that.

Since then, I've seen him through so much. Nightmares and pain and terror and missions gone so badly wrong that we still don't talk about them-"

"Cairo?" Jim interrupted quietly.

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "I've held him up by his shoulders while he puked his guts out from food poisoning, hangovers, and that whole nerve gas thing. I've been chained up beside him and had to listen while they waterboarded him that time in Uganda. I've talked him out of fever hallucinations, self-doubt, guilt, and getting his heart broken. I taught him to tie a tie and to believe in himself and a whole lot of other stuff you dropped the ball on! I've stood beside him and been there for him to hell and back, and undid years of scars that you caused, and when he wakes up, you know who he's going to ask for first?"

James MacGyver was not able to meet his eyes. "I have no doubt on that one. In fact, if he ever did, I would say he stopped asking for me long before he met you."

Jack was a little startled by the admission, and lost a little of his fight. It was hard to yell at someone who agreed with you. Something else the boy in the bed had taught him. "You left a ton of scars on an already broken, scared, and lonely kid, and I've worked hard for a long time to teach him that he is good enough and smart enough and that he is just… _enough… _for people to care about him, and that was before I could think about convincing him that he didn't have to be anything but himself to be worthy of love. I pushed him to find you, just so he would know he tried and not regret it when it was too late, but I never thought you would be selfish enough to just step back in and expect him to just take up where you left off seventeen years later! And being the selfless, self-destructive person that he is, he let you, with no regard for how badly he could get hurt, just like every other crazy thing I've had to rescue him from, but I can't rescue him from you again, because that would hurt him even more!"

"What are you afraid of, Dalton? That we won't patch things up, or that we will?"

Fighting down the anger at the words, Jack swipes his hands down his face, unsure if it was tears or sweat he was wiping off. "Look, if you're just Jim right now, I'm just Jack. Haven't heard my last name this much since basic." He sighed. "I don't tell people what I'm afraid of very often, especially if they are in a position to make it happen, but I will here. I'm afraid that you will walk back into his life and his heart and then back out again. And as badly as you scarred him as a kid, kids are more flexible. If you abandon him again, it just might be enough to break him. Past the point that I can fix."

There, it was out. The reason for the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach ever since he had first laid eyes on him. He often joked that he wanted to wrap the kid in bubble wrap, but there was literally nothing he could do to protect the kid's soft and way too tender heart.

The two conscious men sat in silence for a moment, watching the boy in question. He looked as young as he had been when neither of them had been there for him, dark bruises standing out against pale skin. Jack had scrubbed most of the blood off his face, but had been unable to get all traces of it from his hair, and while the strawberry blond the kid had dyed his hair once had looked just fine on him, this was different.

The uncomfortable silence lasted nearly ten minutes before James spoke, still looking at his son, rather than at Jack. "There's nothing I can say that will change your mind? Nothing that will win your approval?"

All the strength that Jack had faded from him, leaving him drained and exhausted. "You don't need my approval, hoss… all you need is his, and I've got his back just like always."

He stood up and paced over to the window, stared out at the three-quarter moon. After a moment, he turned back to face James. "But you want to change my mind about you? You want my approval? Change my mind then. Prove it. Be here in ten years, twenty if you've got them left. If he gets married or has kids, be there. Be a groomsman or a grandpa, or whatever he needs you to be. But I'm not going anywhere, and if you hurt him again…" Jack didn't finish the thought, because there were too many things he wanted to do to people that hurt his boy to narrow it down.

James opened his mind to reply and just then an alarm went off. Jack was back to the bedside in a second, heart in his throat as he watched Mac struggle against the tube in his lungs. Blue eyes wide, he reached for it and Jack grabbed his hands before he could. "Easy, kid, you're ok. I'm here, you're ok. Calm down, I've got you, it's ok…"

As he recognized the voice, his struggles ceased. Totally focused on Mac, he didn't see James hit the call button, but he saw the result as two nurses and a doctor came running in. James moves aside and let them in. Jack kept hold of the boy's hands, still babbling to him, soothing the panic in the eyes he had been so desperate to see. The switch of his worry went off, as he could see clearly that his boy was in there. Terrified and hurt and fighting against the vent to breathe, but he was in there.

As his friend slowly calmed down, a nurse said to Jack "Sir, if you could step outside, we will take him off the vent. It won't be as unpleasant for him as it looks, but you guys don't need to see it."

Jack opened his mouth to argue, to say he wasn't leaving his side when Mac stopped struggling. Jack looked down at him and saw him watching him back. He squeezed Jack's hand and let go, then tapped his hand. As Jack watched, Mac carefully manipulated his hand, careful of the IV line taped to the back. Carefully, shakily, he formed the sign language letters for 'O' and 'K', looking at Jack questionably, then pointed to Jack. _You OK?_

Relief flooded through him. "Yeah, bud, I'm good. A lot better now, even if you did manage to age me ten years in the last three days!" He made the letters again, then tapped his own chest, more confidently. _I'm_ _OK, right?_ Tears of relief and exhaustion blurred his vision. "Yeah, son, you're okay, too." Mac pointed to the nurse, then the door. Yeah, at himself, Mac didn't want them to watch him cough up his breathing tube. He laughed. "Yeah, Okay. But I'll be right outside if you need me."

Mac nodded, and with a squeeze of the kid's shoulder, Jack followed the elder MacGyver out the door. They stood just outside the door, wincing as they heard Mac gagging to get the tube out. After a moment, James said "In a minute, we are going to go back in there with Angus and it will be all about him-"

"This has been all about him all along!"

"While that is true, I, Jim, have one more thing to say to you, Jack." He looked away, composing his words carefully, as he knew neither of them would ever speak of this again. This would be more taboo than Cairo, but needed saying while they were being honest. "Thank you."

Jack's head jerked up like a puppet on a string. "Huh?"

There was nothing but seriousness in James MacGyver's eyes. "Thank you for calming him down in there, comforting him when he was scared. This time and all the other time you have done for him what I couldn't. Thank you for being a… foster father to my son."

Jack took in the words. "It is and has always been my pleasure. But I have to correct you on one thing."

"What's that?"

"Most of the time, foster fathers have to give the kid back. I'm not going anywhere. As long as you don't hurt him, I'll be happy for you both. But I love him like my own son. I'm not giving him back!"

Gray eyes met brown ones, a serious discussion going on without words, before Jim nodded. "Good. Because I could never pick up the pieces if you did."


End file.
